The Soul Collector
by Claire Bloom
Summary: Isabella Swann can see ghosts. Learning to live with her secret is difficult but when she finds the tormented soul of Edward Masen, she learns to confide in his family about her gift and finally help Edward's ghost to move on. AU. B&E&EM. Rated T.
1. Chapter 1 Prologue

**Ficawesome Gift Exchange**

**Title: The Soul Collector**

**Written for: Renee aka mymunkyman**

**Written By: Claire Bloom**

**Rating: T**

**Summary/Prompt used: Outside**

**If you would like to see all the stories that are a part of this exchange visit the facebook group: ** **Fanficaholics Anon: Where Obsession Never Sleep**

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all the characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer, this storyline is all mine.**

The Soul Collector

Prologue:

BPOV

_I reached out my hand to him and his light flickered, like a candle caught in a gentle breeze. I gasped and waited, praying he wouldn't vanish again. His eyes lifted and looked through me and I instinctively turned to look behind, trying to find what he was staring at._

_Nothing._

_I turned back and felt my heart ache. He looked so lost, so empty, his eyes glistened as though filled with unshed tears. I had never witnessed a look of true desolation before. I had never imagined any person could appear so defeated._

_I felt tears prickle my own eyes as I moved tentatively forward again._

_He was crouched on the forest floor, just like the other times I'd seen him. He sat on his left side, his body supported by his arms which rested on the floor in front of him._

_I knelt before him and wanted so desperately for him to see me. _

_As I moved closer, I could make out the perfect paleness of his skin; his lips in stark contrast to the whiteness of his pallor for they were so red and wet. I imagined him licking them, the tip of his tongue leaving the moisture there._

_His eyes were green and bright and his face was so achingly perfect I yearned to reach out and caress his cheek._

_He shimmered in the moonlight and I wondered again who he was, what had happened to him, and why he remained on this mortal earth._

_His entire being was so transparent I could see the darkness of the forest behind him - through him._

_For some reason, he was trapped here, in limbo, purgatory, and I wanted – no – I needed to know him._

"_Who are you?" I whispered, knowing his ghost could not hear me. "I need to know."_

_He raised his eyes from the ground and for a moment I felt him 'see' me. My breath hitched and I froze, it was almost indescribable. It felt as though someone had reached deep inside of me and caressed my soul._

"_My life," he murmured, lifting his hand and reaching towards me, and then, like all the other times, he was gone._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter one

BPOV

Ever since I was a little girl, I've been told I have an overactive imagination. I would play with my dolls and have tea parties and chat to my imaginary friends, just like all the other little girls my age. But when it was time for bed and my friends were still there with me, my mother would become frustrated with me, and worse, sometimes she even looked scared. I tried to tell her they meant no harm, they were just my friends, but I didn't really understand her reactions.

Why was she so scared?

Her eyes would dance around the room and her breath would appear in a steamy mist as it came faster from her parted lips. I would watch her shiver and then leave the room, and it hurt to see the look of relief wash over her face as she turned away from me.

It wasn't until I was much older that I realised it was because she couldn't see who I was speaking to. Only I could see them.

I had wondered why she was nervous, why she didn't like discussing my friends. It seemed pretty normal to me. I'd even heard other people telling her that it was ok for kids to have imaginary friends. My mother's response had made me wonder.

"But what if they're not imaginary?"

I pondered on this for a little while and had even asked one of my imaginary friends. "Are you real?"

Their answers were rather cryptic and I soon realised they didn't tell me because they didn't really know either.

I asked her about them. I wanted to understand. "Why don't you like my friends?"

"Which friends, sweetheart?"

"You know which ones, mama."

She paused and concentrated all her effort on folding the dish towel. When a substantial amount of time had passed, she turned her attention to polishing the worktops. "They make me – uncomfortable," she finally admitted.

"Why? They're always so nice to me."

"I feel – things – when they're here with you, it makes me – scared."

I jumped down from my stool and walked over, placing my hand on her arm. She flinched then relaxed under my touch. "I don't want you to be scared, mama."

She looked at my hand and I noticed tears glisten close to the surface. It was true - I didn't want her to be scared. "I won't play with them anymore," I whispered.

She smiled, and taking a deep breath, she crouched down to my level. "There's no need to worry, Bella, I'm sorry. You just have an overactive imagination and I shouldn't overreact."

I accepted my mother's explanation of my imagination being overused. I had made her promise to stop but they just kept coming to me and wouldn't let me be. I had to acknowledge them, but over time, I learned to stop whenever she was near me. I knew it was the right decision when she began to relax around me again.

I didn't want my mother to be afraid of me.

In later years, I stopped talking to my 'friends' altogether. I just wanted them all to go away because I knew it was strange and the overwhelming need for privacy soon overruled my friendship with them. But they didn't go away, not fully, soon they stopped speaking to me but they were ever present, always in the background. I could sense them, and see them, even hear them whisper amongst themselves, but they had learned not to whisper to me anymore. I was glad because ignoring them was hard.

When I was eleven, my mother took me to an annual fair. It was called the Strawberry Fair and I was excited more by the name then by the event itself. The entire affair was run by Gypsies. The dates of the fair coincided with the spring solstice, and they would travel from across the globe to congregate on a large field just two miles out of town.

There would be hundreds of stalls selling hand-made jewellery and clothing, ornaments, and food. It was also popular due to the fairground rides and merchandise. Families would gather and settle in for the whole weekend, arriving in caravans, pitching tents, and living like gypsies themselves.

After we arrived and had walked around for a while, looking at the stalls and avoiding the rides, I knew she wanted to meet up with her friends, so I left my mother at the beer tent and went for a wander. I made my way towards the jewellery stalls. I stopped at one which held an array of charms. The girl manning the stall was about my age with long, dark brown hair and light brown eyes. She smiled and jumped down from the stool she was perched upon. Without speaking, she picked up a bangle encrusted with blue and white gems and snapped it closed on my wrist.

I smiled back at her and looked down at the bangle, admiring how pretty it was, when I felt a hand reach out and grip my wrist.

I jumped and stared into the wrinkly but kind eyes of a very elderly woman. She was hunched over and her grey hair was covered by an even greyer shawl. Her grip was loose which made me relax, knowing I could shake her off anytime I wanted.

"You're a special one," she murmured.

"Special," I laughed lightly. "What do you mean?"

She patted my hand. "You are young, but I must warn you, there are things you will see, things that will haunt you. I feel such terror and heartache coming."

I'd heard enough, my smile faltered as she continued to talk. I looked up at the girl behind the stall but she avoided my gaze.

"I want to warn you, Isabella."

My head snapped back round to the elderly woman. "How do you kn-"

"Listen to me child, for he knows you are coming. He waits for you but he grows impatient."

"Who are yo-"

She interrupted me again and placed her free hand upon my chest, I flinched at the intimate touch. "You have a good soul, so pure, so innocent."

I wrenched my hand free and shuddered. The May sunshine had warmed me moments earlier but now all I felt was chilled.

"Take this," she reached around her neck and unfastened a chain. Holding out her hand to me, she waited for me to take the gift.

"Leave me alone," I whispered, wanting desperately to feel the sun warm me again.

"Take it. Take it and wear it. It will help you." She grasped my hands and pressed the chain into my palm, then without another word, she was gone.

I glanced down at the jewel she had given me. It was plain and tawdry. I didn't know what the stone was set in the copper coils, and I didn't want to wear it. She had scared me yet her words echoed in my ears.

_He knows you are coming_.

I glanced back at the girl and she returned my wide eyed stare. Reaching out slowly, the girl took my hand in hers. "Isabella? That's your name?" I nodded. "I'm Alice," she told me.

"She's crazy," I whispered, trying to find reassurance from Alice.

"Yes," Alice nodded and I felt myself relax. "But she's also right."

"What?"

Alice palmed my hand between both of her own. "Where there is good in the world, Isabella, there has to be bad."

"What does that mean?"

"You are the good." Alice reached out and took the bangle off my wrist, and turning, she placed it back on the table.

"You're not making any sense."

She reached for my hand again and holding it between her palms, she closed her eyes. After a moment she whispered, "All I can tell you is stay in the light, the light will save you."

I snatched my hand free and shuddering I stepped away from the stalls quickly, needing to find the sun. I'd had enough of these strange people trying to scare me.

Alice shouted for me to come back but I kept my head down and wandered into the trees, leaving the busy bustle of the fair behind me. I walked for a while, engrossed in my thoughts and studying the chain the old lady had given me. Shrugging, I placed it in my pocket then looked up to discover I had wandered off too far and had no idea which direction would take me back to the fair, and more importantly, safety.

I glanced around trying to channel my inner compass, but every direction looked the same.

The canopy of trees overhead hid the sun from view and I shivered again. Everywhere was so green and the early morning dew still adhered to the leaves, trapping in the chill and surrounding me.

I had never felt claustrophobic before but now it suddenly seemed as though the forest was closing in on me. The small amount of light seemed to dim and I felt breathless, eager to find my way out.

It was so quiet, and the more I listened and tried to hear anything, a bird, a squirrel, even the creepy snap of a twig, the more I realised how eerie it was.

I chose a direction and stepped forward, but a movement in my peripheral made me pause and turn, slowly, to see.

Ahead of me, there was a clearing. The trees circling the small enclosure looked foreign as though the clearing was manmade. It seemed so artificial and I imagined the disturbance of man cutting his way through the trees to create this tiny grassy knoll in the centre of the forest. It was too perfect, too symmetrical to be natural. The grass was lush and long and the flowers dotted around in an abundance of pastel. A single ray of sunlight filtered down through the trees and there, sat in its centre as if it were a spotlight, was a boy.

It would be the first time I ever saw him.

His hair was wild and copper coloured, his clothes torn and dirty, and his head was lowered, hiding his face from me.

I stepped toward him but he didn't look up.

As I drew nearer, I noticed he was almost transparent.

I gasped and stopped approaching but not even my frightened sound caught his attention.

From what I could see, he appeared the same age as me. My fear dissipated and I had a sudden urge for him to raise his eyes to mine.

I reached him and knelt before him and still he didn't look up.

"Are you a ghost?" I asked quietly.

He didn't reply.

I watched as the pollen particles caught in the air spun in slow circles behind him. I could see through him and it made me want to reach out and try to touch him. It seemed like he was made of light, and as I watched him, I was consumed with overwhelming sadness.

"Who are you?" I asked him. "Tell me your name?"

He didn't move.

"I'm Isabella," I told him. "People call me Bella. I'm eleven, how old are you?"

He didn't speak.

"Are you a ghost?" I asked him again. "What happened to you?"

To my surprise, he lifted his face and my heart stopped beating.

Despite his transparency, I could see he had the most beautiful green eyes I had ever seen and yet they were filled with such sadness, such sorrow. It seemed wrong for him to be so sad. He was stunning and I wondered how breathtaking he would be if he ever smiled.

I imagined the movement lifting his eyes and his sadness dissolving into happiness. I didn't know how, but I wanted to make him smile.

But he didn't smile and he didn't speak, and I just sat and watched him, his light flickered in the waning sunlight and I prayed he wouldn't vanish along with it.

"What happened to you?" I asked him again, even though he'd not said a word or even acknowledged I was there.

I couldn't move away, I just had to know him.

The sun began to set and dusk settled over the forest. I felt scared that the darkness would bring wild animals and I would never find my way back to the fair but I couldn't bring myself to leave, not as long as he was here. I waited as the shape of him began to dissolve until finally all that was visible was his face.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, unsure of what I was actually apologising for. His eyes flickered towards me.

"My life," he murmured and then he was gone.

I felt his departure in every fibre of my being. He had seemed so lost and I couldn't help him. It hurt me to think of him here all alone.

I don't know how long I sat there after the dark descended, but it felt like hours. The cold had settled in my bones and I felt nothing would warm me again. I clambered to my feet and just started walking, unaware of which direction I should be taking.

As I walked, I began to feel uneasy, like I was being watched. I glanced around me and saw nothing except shadows, but the intense feeling of something bad, possibly evil, pressed down on me and I remembered Alice's words.

_Where there is good in the world, Isabella, there has to be bad. You are the good._

I walked faster and the snap of a twig, a sound I had craved hours before, now had me running.

I pushed past branches and in my haste my fear had me convinced that they felt like hands clawing at my clothes, hindering my escape - the trees wanted to keep me here.

I could feel a presence behind me and it made me stumble. My breathing sounded so loud and I sobbed, not daring to turn and face what I imagined was chasing me.

For the first time in my life, I felt so alone and wondered where my ever present 'friends' where now that I needed someone.

I tripped on a root and landed hard, twisting my wrist, causing me to call out in pain. I looked around quickly for anything I could use as a weapon, I needed to defend myself, but the ground was clear except for the fallen leaves. I fumbled in my pockets, seeking my keys. They were sharp, if I went for the face I may stand a chance getting away. But I couldn't find them. Instead my fingers curled around the cool metal of the chain the old lady had given me.

_It will help you._

I needed something, anything, and so I tugged it out and deciphered if the length was enough to strangle my assailant with. I hoped whoever it was, was an eleven year-old girl too because I doubted I could fight anyone larger.

As I held the jewel in my hand, I silently prayed I would make it out alive, that I would see my mother again. Then, surprisingly, I pictured the boy sitting on the forest floor. I wondered if the same invisible beast that now towered above me was the reason he remained lost in the wilderness, and his ghost unable to move on.

I felt darkness bear down on me. I was cold and frozen with fear. My breath hitched and caught in my chest, and as I struggled to breathe, I felt suffocated by the blackness pressing in on me.

"Mama," I cried, squeezing my eyes shut and holding out the chain like a talisman. But darkness was all I could see.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter two

"Isabella, can you tell me what happened that night?"

I glanced up from the tiny sand and smiled at the doctor. Shaking my head, I continued to drag the miniature rake through the grains. The motion was soothing. "I can't tell you because I don't remember."

"Is that because it was over ten years ago now?"

"No, it's because I blacked out. I ran, I fell, I screamed, I woke up in a hospital bed. That's all I know."

"What have they told you about that night?"

I shrugged. The fact was they hadn't told me anything. My mother just had that look of fear again, the one I had tried to avoid. She either feared _for_ me or she feared _me_; I didn't like either option. I had asked her what was wrong and she'd edged away from me, asking me about my dreams; the ones I'd had since that night in the forest. It worried me because her fright had now been transferred from my 'friends' to my nightmares; I felt like a terrible daughter, with my inability to appease her.

But once again, for my mother, I pretended. I pretended there were no dreams, and no uneasiness, I pretended there had been no incident in the forest at all. But the problem was I remembered it all. Especially the boy I had seen. His sadness had stayed with me since that day and it was his despair that haunted my dreams at night. I needed to know him, I wanted to know him. But the overwhelming fear I had felt running in the forest owned me, and I couldn't bring myself to go back to there, and so for many years, I never saw him again.

He remained only in my memory.

"Why did you black out?"

I shrugged.

"I have a theory," he offered. "I think you were so consumed by fear you scared yourself, believing there was something in those woods with you. You fell and you were vulnerable."

"There _was_ something in those woods with me," I defended myself.

"No one was chasing you, Isabella." I ignored hum and turned back to the miniature sandpit. "Your mother is concerned about you," the doctor spoke again. "She says you have – nightmares."

"Everybody dreams."

"She says you 'see' things."

I looked up at him quickly, frowning at his sentence. "She said that?"

She never admitted that to anyone. He didn't nod or shake his head, he just wrote something on his notepad. "Tell me about these things that you 'see'," he prompted.

I didn't want to talk about it. I hadn't since I'd seen that look on my mother's face and I'd finally realised the things I could 'see' were not visible to everyone else and how uncomfortable it made her.

He looked up when I didn't speak. Raising one brow, he waited for me.

"I don't know what she's referring to," I looked out the window.

"Do you see - people, Isabella?"

I shrugged.

"Do you see people who shouldn't be here anymore?"

I swallowed and shrugged again.

"Isabella, I want to help you."

"No one can help me," I muttered.

He responded with a small smile. "Give me a chance."

I sighed heavily and picking up the little rake again, I started to shift the sand, combing through the grains and watching how the sun glittered off the tiny fragments, casting tiny reflections back up at me. Everything was tiny, the sandpit, the sand, the rake – it fascinated me.

"Do you see ghosts, Isabella?"

"There are no such things as ghosts." I replied.

"So tell me, what is it that you see? What does your mother think you see?"

"My mother thinks I have an overactive imagination."

"She justifies it by saying that, but it's not what she really believes."

"She's afraid of me."

"Why do you think that?"

"I can see it in her eyes. I see it when she catches me talking to – myself. I see it when she watches me. She's so afraid."

"Is that why you don't want to talk about it? Because you think it will scare people?"

"Doesn't it scare you?" I asked, finally looking over at him.

He smiled. "No."

"Why not? Don't you believe in ghosts?"

"I am a man of science, Isabella."

"But you believe in ghosts, right?"

"As I said, I'm a man of science."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"No, I don't believe in ghosts."

"Then why does she stay near you?"

At my words, his head snapped up from his notepad, his pencil shook between his fingers and his skin blanched. "What did you say?"

"You're wife, she stays. If you don't believe, then why is she here? She obviously thinks you believe, otherwise she'd move on."

He took a shaky breath and placed his pencil on the table between us. "I don't think you're very funny."

"I wasn't trying to be."

"Then you're just being cruel?"

I shook my head. "No, I wasn't. I just don't understand why she stays. Is there something you want to say to her? Maybe that's why she waits."

"Shut up."

"If you want, I could ask her."

"Shut up!"

"What's her name?"

He slammed his notepad down and stood shaking. "Get out!"

I studied him for a moment and then glanced at the figure of the woman behind him. She had looked hopeful when I'd first seen her, she had recognised in me the ability to communicate with her, but now she looked so lost. I mouthed the words 'I'm sorry' to her and stood to leave. I reached the door and turned back to him. "Dr Cullen?"

"Please, Isabella, just go."

"I will, I mean, I am. I just wanted to say I didn't mean to upset you. But tell her, whatever it is you need to say, just tell her." Before he could respond, I pulled open the door and left him alone with his dead wife.

My appointment was due to finish at four and as I had upset the good doctor, I had half an hour to kill before heading back to work. I made my way to the library and decided to do a little investigation. I suddenly felt compelled to find out as much as I could about the boy who I couldn't forget. He had to have a name, an existence somewhere, and the library had computers, with internet, which was only too eager to share its vast knowledge with a recipient. The boy in the forest had haunted me for long enough, I wanted to know more.

I found a table near the window and waited for the screen saver to disappear. I didn't know what I was looking for, I had no name, no details, but I didn't let my lack of knowledge faze me.

I pictured his face in my mind, and closing my eyes, I recalled every little detail. He had appeared to be the same age as me, as I was back then, so I could start with his birth year.

I Googled 'birth, deaths and marriages', and then hit on a local site. Clicking in the search engine, I entered the year 1989 and ticked the box for 'male'. It asked for name, age, and date of death. I knew none of these things and hoped it would still offer some answers with what little I could go on.

The result was for over five hundred and eighty males born in 1989 in our town.

I needed to know more.

I typed in deaths of males aged 10 – 12 years.

The result was over seventy-two.

I scanned the list of names and futilely tried to place them with the image of the boy I had. None of them seemed to fit and I finally admitted to myself that I needed a name but I had no idea where I could find it. I thought back to the forest and wondered why he was there. In the years I had come to acknowledge my 'sight', I had learned that the souls who could not move on were earthbound for a reason, unfinished business, connected to the area or sometimes because their loved ones just couldn't let them go.

From what I had seen of him, this boy was in despair. His torn clothes and dirty hands, his sadness, it all spoke volumes that his life had not ended kindly. His ghost remained lost in the forest, perhaps there was something that belonged to him there. If I found it, I might find him too, and possibly the information I needed.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked myself, but I knew it was because I wanted to help him. His sorrow had filled me and when I remembered him, which was frequently, I also remembered his sadness. If I could help him move on, into the eternal light that awaited him, then maybe I could move on too.

I printed off the list, and folding it, I placed it on my pocket.

I left the library, ignoring the pleading faces of the ghosts I passed. They all seemed to know I could see them and hear them, and they followed me, silently begging me to help them.

I didn't want to help them; I had someone else who needed me more.

I knew I was acting on impulse but I also knew I'd waited long enough. I stopped at a payphone and called work, telling them I couldn't make it in today and then I made my way back to the forest.

Without the hundreds of stalls and caravans colouring the landscape, the field appeared huge and empty. I pondered on my stupid decision to come here alone, when no one knew where I was. I hesitated, thinking back on the invisible creature that had chased me. I shuddered and sought the chain around my neck. I had taken to wearing it beneath my clothes ever since that night in the forest. I couldn't recall what had happened exactly, but I remembered I had felt safer once the necklace was in my hand. I recalled Dr. Cullen's words, telling me I had imagined the shadows chasing me, to try to dispel my nerves.

Pulling the jewel free of my shirt, I palmed it, and muttering a pray to the powers that be, I stepped beneath the canopy of trees and began searching for the small clearing.

It was almost an hour before I stumbled upon it and that was purely by chance. The setting was exactly as I remembered it; the grass lush and tall, the trees surrounding it and encasing the area in shadows, and once again, a single slither of sunlight penetrated the canopy of branches overhead and splayed across the forest floor.

But he wasn't here.

I felt a little disappointed and wandered over to sit in the beam of light, basking in the warmth. I closed my eyes and lay down, relishing the prickle of heat working its way across my skin. I fanned my hands out on the ground either side of me and wondered at the softness of the grass. Brushing my hands lightly through the blades, I caressed it, enjoying the tickle on my palms.

Finally, I ceased moving and let my hands rest where they fell. It took me a moment to realise something colder than the earth was touching me.

I turned my head, and lifting my hand, I caught a glimmer of something gold, sticking out of the mud. I hurried to dig it out and brushed away the clumps of dirt adhering to its surface.

It was a ring.

I could make out a crest on the front, set in what appeared to be onyx. I fingered the edges of the band and felt ridges. I wiped harder and looked again, noticing the engraving along the inner circumference of the ring.

_Edward Antony Masen._

I had no idea if this belonged to the boy I had seen, no proof that this was what brought his ghost back to this empty place as I whispered his name, it fit, it suited him, and I just knew it was his.

I pulled the list from my pocket and scanned the seventy-two names. He wasn't on it.

I didn't know if this made me happy or sad.

Was he missing from the list because his body had never been found? Was he buried here, right where I sat, and that's why he couldn't leave? Forever in limbo till his remains were uncovered.

I sprang to my feet and moved to edge of the clearing, not wanting to step on his grave. I covered my mouth with my dirty hands and stifled a sob.

I didn't want this to be his final resting place. I didn't want this to be his ongoing hell. No one deserved to rest in an unmarked grave without a single soul to mourn his passing.

He was just a boy and his soul was in torment.

I fell to my knees, and dropping the ring and the list, I hung my head and cried.

I mourned for him, for a boy I had never known and who I couldn't help. I gripped the grass in my palms, digging my nails into the dirt and squeezing as if the very action could appease me.

I cried and let every wretched sob consume me because no one should ever die and be left to rot in the loneliness of the forest.

It was too awful for me to even contemplate but it was all I could think about; his desolate eyes and broken demeanour, and so I mourned him because it was all I could do for him now.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The days passed by quickly, but with each waking moment, my thoughts were of Edward. I Googled his name and found an article on his family. They had lived locally and his older brother Emmett still resided close by. The article told me he was now a prominent business man and that the rest of the Masens had moved away shortly after a family tragedy, but no other details were given. I assumed the tragedy had been the passing of Edward and now I was even more convinced his life had ended suddenly.

My imagination conjured up scenarios about murder rather than accidents and I knew I needed more answers. My mother was right about my imagination.

I typed his name into 'births, deaths and marriages' but only found his birth details. As far as the worldwide web was concerned, Edward Antony Masen had not died. I thought back on his ghost, and even though I had clearly seen he'd aged, I also knew that what I saw wasn't mortal.

I jotted down Emmett's business address and made my way to see him. I had no idea what I would say, or how I would steer the conversation towards Edward. I talked myself out of it a thousand times before I got there but my feet carried me forward anyway.

I asked the receptionist if I could see Mr. Masen and she told me to take a seat. I was surprised as I had no appointment and he didn't know me but I wasn't about to argue my way out of a meeting with him.

My stomach was in knots as I had no plan and I felt physically sick as the receptionist motioned for me to enter Mr. Masen's office.

I pushed the door wide slowly and peered inside. He was dressed in an impeccable suit but it did nothing to hide the massive expanse of his shoulders and chest. Unlike Edward, Emmett's hair was black, but as he looked up at me I could see, even from across the room, that his eyes were almost an identical green.

"Can I help you, Ms. Swan?"

"I found Edward's ring," I blurted out without thinking.

Emmett stopped writing on his desk pad and placed his pen down carefully. He sat back and looked at me, waiting for me to continue. I wanted to, I just didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry," I finally mumbled. "I didn't mean to just blurt it out like that."

"Can I see it?" he reached his hand out and I pulled the ring from my purse, placing it gently in his palm.

I watched him turn the ring over in his hand and read the inscription before thumbing the crest on the front. His movements were tender and I remained as still and as quiet as I could. I glanced out the window, feeling as though I was intruding on something extremely personal just by watching him.

"Ms. Swan, please sit down. I'm sorry I'm being rude, but you took me by surprise."

"You're not mad at me?" I sat on a black leather wingback opposite his desk, clutching my purse in my lap.

"Why would I be mad at you?"

"Well, I don't know you and I just turn up here, and surprise you with this. It's been a long time, I'm sure, and this must be quite a shock for you."

"Twelve years," he replied, looking back down at the ring. I noticed a similar one on his left hand. I had no doubt it too would be engraved with his name.

I nodded but he didn't see me.

"Where did you find this?"

"In the forest, by the common, there was a little clearing."

Emmett nodded as if he knew of where I spoke, but he said nothing else. The minutes ticked by without a word spoken between us.

I swallowed and licked my dry lips, freeing them up so I could speak. "Tell me about him."

Emmett smiled. "We own the land," he told me. "The site for the fair, the forest, the two hundred and fifty acres beyond that, we own it all. Edward and I would play in the woods; he wanted to be a sniper."

I smiled at the childish dreams of a typical boy. "Mr. Masen, what happened to Edward?"

Emmett looked up at me. "Are you a reporter?"

"No, I-"

"I've already told you people what I know."

"Mr. Masen, I'm not a reporter. I work in a hardware store."

"Why are you here?"

"I found the ring,"

"You're not telling me the truth."

"Yes, I am, I found the ring."

"I don't mean about the ring." He scrutinized me and rested his elbows on his desk. "Why are you really here?"

I swallowed. I really wanted to tell him. I wanted to confess it all but I'd never spoken about the things or the people I saw. But I needed to know Edward, I couldn't explain the pull. He was with me day and night, always in my thoughts, this strange apparition who aged yet was trapped in limbo. I craved information on him. I wanted to help him.

"I saw him." My voice was so tiny I doubted he'd heard me, but I prayed he had, because I didn't think I could say it again.

"You saw Edward?"

I nodded.

"Where? He's alive? Is he well? Did he ask you come here?"

I almost cried at the hope alighted in Emmett's eyes. I shook my head at each question. "Mr. Masen, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come here." I stood and moved around the chair but Emmett was at my side before I could reach the door.

"You saw him, please tell me where?"

I shook my head. "You'll think I'm crazy."

"Lady, you're pretty much running that risk anyway." I peeked up at him and sighed when I saw he was smiling. "Let's go for coffee," he nodded towards the door. "It's too formal in here."

I allowed him to steer me out the door and waited as he left instruction with his receptionist. Emmett then guided me out of the building and across the street to a coffee shop. I asked him for tea and chose a seat while he placed the order.

I chewed on my finger nail as he made his way over and sat opposite me again. Handing me my tea, he sugared his own beverage and hitched his trousers up so he could cross one leg over the other. "I don't think you trust me," he surmised. "And I don't blame you, you don't know me. But I want to know the truth and I think you want to tell me. Am I right?"

I nodded and swapped my nail for my bottom lip.

"So, Ms. Swan, tell me your story."

"Can't you tell me yours first?"

Emmett smiled and sipped his coffee. I waited till he'd placed his cup back in the table. I took a deep breath, and letting it out slowly, I told him, "I see ghosts."

It was like breathing fresh air after a lifetime of staleness. I had no idea that saying one simple sentence could make me feel so – free. It no longer mattered if he believed me or not, I was just happy to have laid bare my secret. It was to only one person but it was enough.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"I don't want to say it again," I said. It was liberating the first time but to repeat it made it less exhilarating.

"You see dead people?"

"Ghosts," I corrected him.

"Is there a difference?"

"Yes, I see their spirit, Mr. Masen, not their corpse."

"I guess that is different," he agreed with me. "So tell me, what does this have to do with me or my brother?"

"I told you."

"Tell me again."

"I saw him."

"Edward? You saw Edward? His – spirit?"

I nodded and reached out a shaky hand for my tea cup. Emmett didn't speak for a while. I took a sip, and then another, and then replaced my cup before my trembling hand spilled the hot drink all over me.

"Please say something," I begged him, but didn't look up at him.

"I don't know what to say," he admitted.

"Most people would have a comment or two after hearing a confession like that."

"I think – I think I believe you," he said quietly. I looked up at him quickly but Emmett was staring out the window. "Tell me what you saw?" he asked me, and so I did. I recalled the very first time I'd seen Edward and how he'd flickered in the waning light like a candle in the breeze. How he was young and the things he'd said. I told him of the next time I'd sought him out and how it had seemed like he'd seen me too. How I'd found the ring and how Edward looked like he'd aged.

Emmett listened without interruption, sipping his coffee and toying with both rings; his and Edward's. "Will you take me there?" he asked when my story was told.

I was surprised by his request. Emmett Masen was a successful businessman. He wore Armani and dealt with large amounts of money on a daily basis. He watched me contemplatively, silently, which was a clever ruse to get the other person to speak, and I had fallen for it. In barely an hour of being in his company, I'd told him a secret I couldn't even admit to my own mother. It was my turn to study him as he continued to gaze out the window. He was extremely handsome, his face rounder than Edward's but still a pleasure to look at. His smile invoked dimples at the corners of his mouth but his immense size and confidence asserted the man behind the boyish charm. His eyes told me it had been some time since Emmett Masen had laughed.

So yes, his acceptance of my statement and his request to come with me to see Edward's ghost surprised me, but I agreed to it anyway.

Emmett drove us out to the common. He parked the car at the roadside and we walked the remainder into the woods. I let him lead me through the trees and he found the little grassy clearing without misdirection. I was glad he was here because I always ended up lost and wandering around blind before I found it.

The clearing was exactly like it was the last time I'd seen it. The grass was plush, the flowers vivid, and the single ray of sunlight poked through the trees and fell upon the spot where Edward usually sat.

As with the last time I'd been here, the clearing was empty.

Emmett walked forward and sat on the fallen trunk. Its boughs covered with moss, telling tale of how long it had lain there, with ivy twisting around it. He looked around at the trees overhead and the flowers beneath his foot.

"It's been a long time since I was here last," he told me. "In fact, I haven't been here since the day he disappeared."

"Edward disappeared?" I asked him. I was expecting an accident, something that led to Edward's death. A disappearance wasn't something I'd considered.

He nodded. "We were playing, it was pretty usual, Edward was looking for me and I was hiding. We were always pranking on each other." Emmett smiled in memory." I usually got the upper hand. But on that day, as usual, I was playing tricks on him, making noises and dashing off to another spot. Sometimes I made traps, booby traps. One time, I'd dug a hole and covered it with twigs and leaves. It wasn't deep but it was enough for him to fall into as he chased me." Emmett stopped smiling and for a second his brow furrowed and he looked pained. "He twisted his ankle."

"But that's not funny," I said despite my smiling along with him until then.

Emmett shrugged. "Schoolboy pranks, Ms. Swan. He always got his own back. I thought that was what he was doing the day he disappeared. I thought he'd grown tired of looking for me. I could hear him calling me but I stayed hidden. Eventually he made his way over here," Emmett patted the tree he sat upon. "I was over there," he pointed to the thickest section of trees just metres ahead of us. "I watched him search but I soon became bored and I fell asleep."

As I listened to his story, I moved around the outside of the clearing, staying back in the shadows, not wanting to step into the light of the sun. This was Emmett's memory and I was intruding, I had been since the moment I stepped into his office.

"I woke up to the sound of Edward screaming," he continued. "I jumped up and ran over here but he was gone. I assumed he was trying to trick me so I shouted for him, I told him it wasn't working." Reaching up, Emmett scratched his chin. "But I was worried; he could probably hear it in my voice. When he didn't come back, I decided he must have fallen and hurt himself so I went home believing he'd made his way there too. We didn't live far, just over that way, in the meadow." Emmett nodded in the direction of their old family home, "but when I got there, no one had seen him. My father organised a search party, but after five days, it was clear that he wouldn't be found."

"I'm so sorry," I whispered.

Emmett spoke matter-of-fact but I could tell that by recalling this he was touching on a raw nerve. As he turned his face up towards the sky, his eyes glistened with unshed tears. "They told me it was probably an animal and it had dragged him off somewhere. I was fourteen but I knew what they were saying. They were trying to tell me there would be no body to recover."

"There's no record of his death," I told him.

"My mother never certified it. My father wanted to but she was convinced Edward still lived. Even now, years after and still no sign of him, she believes he will one day come home again."

"What do you believe?" I asked him.

"You saw his ghost, Ms. Swan, and you ask me if I think he's still alive?"

"I'm sorry," I told him again.

Emmett sighed. "It's been a long time since I last played a prank on anyone, a long time." He looked down at the rings on his hand. Taking off Edward's smaller version, he toyed with it. "We never found anything, not one scrap of clothing, no blood – nothing." He held the ring up to the sunlight. "I'm amazed that you found this, because we searched this area and there was nothing."

"It was partly buried, over there." I indicated the spot of sunlight and watched as Emmett stood and walked towards it.

"Where did you see him?"

"Where you are now," I said. Emmett jumped back as if he'd been burnt.

"Why isn't he here now?" he turned to ask me.

I shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes he's here when I come, other times I have to wait."

Emmett walked back to the fallen tree and sat. "Then we wait," he said.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

I awoke with a start and shivered. It was cold and night had fallen, casting the forest into darkness only this time I wasn't afraid; Emmett was with me, and even though he snored softly beside me, I felt safe having company.

Instinctively, I looked over to the spot where Edward usually appeared, and to my relief, he was there.

He sat watching me, sitting in the same position as always. Emmet stirred beside me but didn't wake. At the sound, Edward glanced over at him and his face registered recognition. I slowly reached out and tapped Emmett's arm, trying to rouse him so he could bear witness. But he slept on.

"Edward," I whispered. "Do you remember me?"

He looked down at the ground and closed his eyes.

"Edward," I called to him. Hearing me speak, Emmett raised his head and looked around us. I felt him push up into a sitting position.

"He's here?" he whispered to me.

I pointed to Edward and nodded.

"Where is he?" Emmett asked.

"He's there," I answered him quietly, but Emmett just continued to stare out at nothing.

I watched Edward raise his eyes to mine, a single tear fell upon his cheek and I saw it glisten in the moonlight as it trailed its way down until it dispersed into his skin.

"I can't see him," Emmett sounded desperate.

I stood up and walked carefully over to Edward, his eyes never left mine as I stopped before him and lowered myself to my knees. I reached out slowly, wanting to touch his face but all I caressed was nothing and Edward's light waivered as I manipulated the air around him.

"He's here," I told Emmett and heard him approach me from behind.

"I can't see him," he whispered. "Edward? Edward, come home, please. Come home." Emmett's desperation and his plea touched my heart and I longed to help them both.

"Why do you stay here?" I asked Edward, searching his eyes for answers.

"My life," he murmured and suddenly he was gone.

"Edward, please," Emmett begged on.

"He's gone, Mr. Masen," I said sadly.

"I didn't see him. There was nothing here." He sounded angry and I understood why. He had wanted to see his brother and I had told him he could. "There was nothing here!"

"He _was_ here," I tried to tell him but standing, Emmett gripped his hair and paced.

"How could you do that? What kind of sick freak are you?"

"I didn't lie to you!"

"So where is he?" Emmett was shouting now, a vein bulged on his neck and his fists were clenched. "I came here to see my brother." He narrowed his eyes. "Who are you? Why did you bring me here?"

"You asked to come."

Emmett ignored me. "You promised me my brother."

"I'm sorry. I wanted you to see him. He seems so lost-"

"Stop!" I jumped at his tone. "Stop talking." He held up his hands as if to verify his words. "Don't you dare _ever_ mention Edward! You know nothing about him, or what we went through. You tricked me. You're sick."

"Mr. Masen, I didn't lie," I sobbed. I understood his rage, he had wanted to believe me and I had convinced him. We were here and Edward had been too, but now he was gone, and for Emmett there'd been no sign. It was just like my mother, the way he looked at me now was just like my mother. She would stare at me like I was hysterical and she didn't know what to do to help me. Emmett looked at me that same way and I understood why.

I could see ghosts and no one else did and this made me different. They weren't scared of the spirits, they were scared of me.

There was no proof, no evidence to prove I was not insane. I didn't blame him for his anger. I blamed me for bringing his suppressed mourning back to the surface of his life again.

"I've seen him," I cried. I needed him to stop looking at me like that. I wasn't crazy, I wasn't!

"Stop," he whispered.

"I see him. I _have_ seen him, as a child and as a grown man. He has reddish hair and green eyes."

"You could've gotten those details off the internet."

"He looked so sad, so lost,"

"I asked you to stop."

"He sat there –"my voice wavered and my hand shook as I pointed to the bare grass.

"Please."

"He was dirty-"

"Stop."

"His blue shirt was torn and his trousers were grubby with grass and mud and – and his cheek was smeared with grime."

Emmett stormed over to me, and gripping my shoulders, he shook me. "What are you doing?" he cried.

"I'm trying to prove to you that I'm not crazy, or delusional or worse – vicious. He was here, Emmett, I swear to you, he was here." I bit my lip and let my tears fall.

Emmett dropped his hands and we both stood facing each other, our breath's ragged as he tried to control his temper and I struggled to reign in my emotions.

"I could've found pictures of Edward as a child, Emmett, I agree, but how do you explain him as an adult? There are no pictures of him as a grown man because he's been missing for twelve years."

"And how do you explain that?" he asked. I shook my head not understanding what he was referring to. "How do you explain a ghost who ages? I thought when we died the ghost remained stuck in limbo and you looked as you did at that time in your life. How is it that he aged?"

"I – don't know," I admitted.

Emmett turned and walked around the small clearing again. "Is it possible he isn't dead?"

"Then why do I see him?"

Turning back to face me, he shook his head. "I don't know, but it could be a possibility, right? If he isn't dead, then that explains why he's a grown up now."

"But I see a spirit not a person."

"I know, it makes no sense, but think about it." He walked back over to me and took hold of my arms again, this time his grip was gentle. "He ages - think about it."

I considered his theory and had to admit it seemed feasible. I just didn't know how I could see something that appeared to be ethereal, if he was alive. "I need answers, you need answers," I murmured.

"Do _you_ have them?"

I shook my head. "No."

"You come to me with this incredible declaration, but you have no clue."

"I never claimed to be an expert!"

"I don't know why I came here. I thought – I thought –"

"What? That he would be sitting here waiting for you? I told you it was ghost, have you ever seen a ghost before? No? So why did you think you could see one now? I _can_ see them, Emmett, I've always been able to see them and I can see him and he was here. But I'm not sorry _you_ couldn't see him because that sight will haunt you for the rest of your life!"

"He already is haunting me!" he yelled, his voice echoed off the trees, alarming the birds into flight. "He's my brother, my baby brother, and I couldn't help him!"

I didn't know what to say so I said nothing. I watched him wrestle with his emotions and I felt such pity for this stranger. I had known Emmett for merely hours but his pain was so real to me.

"I read once that when a spirit remains earthbound, it's because their family's grief tethers them. Maybe he can't move on because you deny yourself to grieve."

"I grieve, Ms. Swan. I have grieved for twelve years."

"Maybe it's time to let go." I watched him for a reaction, what I was saying was a double-edged sword and I had no idea which way my words would fall. I waited for his hurt, his pain, and more anger but instead Emmett's shoulders slumped and he walked over to Edward's spot.

He started to dig in the spoil, and then taking off the smaller ring, he placed it in the ground and covered it over. Leaving his hand pressed down on top, he whispered to his brother, "Goodbye, Edward, it's time to move on – for both of us."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The weeks passed by and I resisted going back to the clearing. I wanted to believe Edward's soul had passed on, but in my heart, I knew it wasn't so. I'd thought Emmett's attempt to say goodbye would be enough and it probably could've been if I had said goodbye too, but I feared my inability to forget him was now tying him here as well. But of course, I wasn't certain. Edward had been nothing to me, no one. I hadn't loved him or known him and nor he me, so how could our brief encounter be enough to tie him here? I didn't know, but I could still 'feel' him.

I wanted to go back and prove to myself that he had moved on but I was scared because if he hadn't, then I had to face the fact that maybe I was responsible this time, for keeping him here.

Emmett had called me a few times. He asked me out to dinner and I had gone. It was pleasant, but despite our best efforts, the conversation always trailed back to Edward. I was happy to listen for a while but hearing tale of the child he had been only served to haunt me even more with the memory I had of him as a ghost. It hurt me to avoid Emmett's calls after that because I actually liked him. He was strong and handsome and had such as sweet nature but I wasn't helping him and I convinced myself he only called because I was a link to his brother. I wanted him to like me for me, but I doubted he did, and so I'd evaded him, as politely as I could.

It was exactly one month later when my resistance waned and I found myself driving to the forest. I knew that as long as I believed he was still here, I would always come back to this place. For Edward, I would always come back.

I walked into the woods and found the clearing quicker than I had the previous times. I sat on the fallen log and watched the butterflies dance in the afternoon sunlight. I looked down at the ground where Emmett had buried the ring and I waited for Edward.

The minutes ticked by and turned into hours, but still, I refused to leave. If I had to wait here the entire night and see in the dawn without Edward appearing, than that's what I would do.

My phone beeped, pulling me from my reverie. I frowned as I read the caller ID; Emmett.

"Hi," I answered.

"Hey Bella, how are you?"

"I'm good, thanks. And you?"

"Yeah, are you busy? I thought you might like to get some dinner with me."

I hesitated. I wanted to say yes but I wanted him to ask me for all the right reasons, and I didn't think this was it.

"Bella?"

"Emmett, why do you want to go to dinner with me?"

"Because I'm hungry?" he joked. I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Emmett," I chewed on my fingernail as I waited for him to respond. A bird chirruped nearby and his mate answered the call.

"Where are you?" Emmett asked.

"Nowhere."

"Are you in the clearing?"

"Yes," I told him, feeling guilty.

"Why? Edward's gone." I heard Emmett inhale. "Hasn't he?"

"I just wanted to be sure."

"Stay there, Bella, I'm coming over."

"Emmett, there's no need."

"I'm on my way," he said.

"Ok," I nodded.

"Don't move, ok?" he hung up and I sat by the log, regretting answering my phone.

The dissipating sunlight eventually disappeared and darkness crept in from behind the trees till it surrounded me. Neither Emmett or Edward appeared.

I settled down on the ground with my back against the trunk and watched as tiny nocturnal animals came out and scurried past me, oblivious to me sitting by their den. I didn't mind them so much but prayed that nothing bigger than a badger came by.

I closed my eyes and listened to the natural world around me. The gentle rustling soothed me and I drifted off to sleep.

In my dreams, Edward came and this time he didn't vanish, he simply moved and I was able to follow him. He shifted quickly and I had to run to keep up, the trees blurring past me as I raced faster and faster after his retreating form. Then suddenly, the trees faded and the shadows no longer came from the trees but from buildings, all around us. We stood in the street looking up and around, and then he glanced at me and took off again. I hurried after him, wondering why the streets were empty of cars, and suddenly we stopped outside Emmett's building. Edward looked up at the office block, seeking out Emmett's until his gaze landed on the only light that was on in the entire skyscraper.

He disappeared again and I made my way inside, taking the elevator up to the top floor. The doors pinged as they opened and I stepped out and into the forest again. The desks and chairs and windows had all gone and I was right back where I'd started.

Edward was there and he was watching me, and just as before, he took off running and I chased him again, twigs and branches reaching out as if to delay my pursuit.

Finally, we reached a clearing and sat in its centre was a cottage. It looked like a chocolate box; picture perfect with roses trailing around the door and smoke billowing from the chimney.

Edward stopped running and pointed at the cottage.

"My life," he whispered. I approached him and looked over to the building but it had changed and was now rundown and appeared empty, the windows dirty and the white walls peeling and faded.

"What is this place?" I asked him.

"Home," he replied.

"This is your home?"

Edward nodded but he looked scared. It didn't seem right. I had imagined a huge mansion for the Masen's to live in, not a derelict little cottage.

"Let's go see," I prompted him, but as I stepped forward, Edward cried out and fell through the ground as if sucked in by an unseen force. I called his name but he didn't re-appear. Suddenly, I became aware of someone running at me from my left. I turned quickly but the darkness came quicker and I screamed, jolting myself awake.

I was sat in the clearing and my heart pounded against my chest. I felt sick and clammy and my fingers were clutching at the grass, embedding dirt in my nails.

I closed my eyes again and willed my heart to slow down. I felt something cold and light brush against my cheek.

I opened my eyes and stared into the soulful green of Edward's.

His hand was raised as if to stroke my face but it felt like merely a gentle breeze to me. I felt compelled to lean my cheek into his touch as his eyes searched mine.

I lifted my own hand instinctively, to cup his closer, but he vanished, and once again, I was left alone. But this time, I knew where I needed to go.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Despite Emmett telling me to stay put, I walked the way I'd run in my dream. I had no idea where I was going but I let my memory guide me. Eventually, I reached the edge of the woods and stepped out into a field, and ahead of me was a cottage, it looked old and untidy but not as derelict as it had in my dream.

My phone buzzed again but as Edward was waiting for me, stood between me and the building, I decided to ignore it and walked closer. As I did, he moved too. I followed him till I reached the broken fence surrounding the cottage's perimeter. I looked at him, and then at the cottage, and I was scared.

My phone buzzed again.

I knew Edward wanted me to go inside but it looked so dark and bad things lurked in the darkness. "Edward, I don't want to go in there," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.

I turned back to look at him but he wasn't there, he was stood in front of the door.

I pushed at the gate and it creaked, startling me. I edged through and winced as the gravel on the path crunched beneath my steps. Everything seemed so loud and I was sure my heartbeat was audible too.

I reached the door and noticed it was slightly open. I pushed it till it swung wide and waited while my eyes adjusted to the dimness inside.

Before me was a hallway and stairs leading up to the first floor. I didn't want to go up there and be so far away from the only exit route I knew. I stepped in and glanced at the room to my left. The cottage was still furnished and dust particles swirled in the newly disturbed air.

My phone buzzed again, startling me. I clutched at my chest and willed my heart to slow down; the thumping seemed to echo round the room.

I walked further inside and noticed a piano at the back, near the patio. It was black and covered in dust, and in the distance of my mind, I could hear the dulcet melody of someone playing a lullaby. I stepped closer and glanced around, looking for Edward. He remained in the doorway watching me.

"Are you here, Edward?" I gestured around the room.

He shook his head and looked upstairs. I didn't want to go up there.

"Are you up there?" I asked, pointing. To my relief, he shook his head again.

I walked back to the hallway and followed his gaze. He was staring at the basement door, and suddenly, going upstairs didn't seem like such a bad idea.

I walked over to the door and asked him again. "Are you down there?"

He didn't answer, and when I looked up at him, he was gone.

I took a shaky breath and tried the handle, to my dismay, it opened without resistance. I had wanted it to be locked so I could leave this haunted place and breathe clean air again.

But I had sought out Edward's spirit and I had followed him here. How could I abandon him now?

I fisted my trembling hands and tentatively stepped through the door. The stairs looked rickety, and it didn't help that the bottoms steps were swallowed by shadows. I clutched the rail and tried to regain some semblance of control. I was so frightened I thought I would surely have a stroke any minute now.

I lifted my foot and took the first step down into the blackened basement.

The air was different in here than outside. True, the entire cottage hadn't seen fresh air in a long time but with the door closed, the basement was stale, I could almost taste the damp.

I took each step one at a time, telling myself over and over again that I was stupid for even coming here. Why didn't I wait for Emmett? I should just go back upstairs and wait for him there. I should call him and tell him where I was.

But instead, my feet carried me down and I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the dark.

The basement was almost empty. Through the dim light emanating from the open door upstairs, all I could see was a length of rope neatly coiled and hanging on the wall and a workbench with tools and a flashlight on it. I exhaled and rushed over, eager to see if by some miracle, the batteries were full of life and the light would blind me.

To my immense relief, the torch worked and I turned and screamed as the ray washed over Edward's form standing close behind me.

I fell to the floor and sobbed, knowing my heart had taken so many scares in one night it may never recover. I squeezed my eyes shut and willed myself to be somewhere, anywhere else, when I opened them again. I wanted this to be part of the dream and I wanted to be safe. I wanted Emmett to be here, he was so strong and I felt an overwhelming urge to be held by him.

Thinking of him seemed to help me, and when I felt I was able to, I stood and breathed deep and slow. Edward watched me and then glanced towards the rope on the wall and then up the stairs.

I ignored the rope and ran for the stairs, glad to be out of the darkness.

As I raced out into the hallway, a breeze blew through the front door, shifting it on its hinges and to my dismay, slammed it shut before I could reach it.

I gripped the handle and struggled to pull it open again. I was so desperate to be outside that I turned and ran, looking for another escape route.

I headed into the kitchen and hit my hip on the worktop which was sitting central in the spacious room. I turned to see four doors and a patio. I headed for the patio doors and pulled with all my might, and just like the basement, the door fell open without resistance, causing me to tumble back and bang my head on the wall units.

But I didn't stop running. Ignoring my pains, I raced into the garden and through the broken fence and beyond. Everywhere was so overgrown and wild and I tripped on a small brick wall hidden by the undergrowth.

Instinctively my hands reached out to stop me from landing on my face but the ground never came, I fell into blackness and felt freezing cold air whoosh past me until I hit water.

It wasn't deep, and the impact against the ground beneath jolted my wrists. I felt one snap and I cried out as my legs, raised above my head, hit the walls surrounding me.

Sobbing, I pulled my legs under me and sat back against the cold, damp wall. The water was stagnant and the smell made me heave. I used the sleeve of my good arm to wipe my face clean of dirty water. I looked up, clutching at my broken wrist and noticed a perfect circle of light above me.

I had fallen into a well.

"Emmett!" I screamed out but knew it was useless. He didn't know where I was. I had promised him I would stay in the clearing, I only had myself to blame.

My phone buzzed, and frantic to answer it before it was redirected to voicemail, I fumbled in my pocket. My hand was wet and I was shaking. I dropped it in the water and watched as tiny air bubbles floated to the top and little ripples from its vibrating spread across the surface, and then it stopped.

"No," I sobbed, "no, oh God please, please." I fumbled in the water, it was so black I couldn't see but my hand brushed against an object and I pulled it out, praying the water hadn't damaged it.

But I hadn't found my phone, and I stared in astonishment at the bony arm I had lifted from the water.

Shaking, I dropped it, frantically pushing myself back against the wall and crying out for someone, anyone, to help me.

The moonlight washed down through the small circle above me and I felt safer in its beam than in the shadows.

"Please help me," I cried but my voice became tired and soon my pleas were barely a whisper.

I cradled my wrist against my chest and dropped my head back against the wall. Closing my eyes, I continued to pray silently for Emmett to come and rescue me.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

As the night wore on, the moon shifted from its highest position in the sky, and as the light moved, so did I. I wanted to stay away from the shadows. I needed the light, no matter how dim it was.

I closed my eyes and rested my head back against the damp wall. It was so cold because no summer sun had permeated beyond the entrance of the well in years. The shadows had kept it cold and that combined with the water and my damp clothes, chilled me.

I was shaken, bruised, broken, cold, wet, and shocked. I shivered uncontrollably and cried quietly, waiting for a miracle.

My legs felt cramped so I stretched them out as far as I could, but when I moved back again, I kicked the object beneath the water.

I knew what lay there, deep down in this well beside me. I knew who it was and why I was here, because he had led me here. He had shown me the rope and torch and now I had neither.

I finally knew what Edward's fate had been and I surmised that it was to be mine too.

"Oh Edward, I'm so sorry," I whispered. I opened my eyes to see him sitting opposite me, his knees raised up to his chest like mine were, his arms locked around them to hold in any body heat that he imagined remained.

His eyes mirrored the desolation that I felt and I was at least thankful I wasn't alone, like he had been.

"How did this happen?" I asked and Edward looked down into the water.

I watched him for what seem like a lifetime, then feeling a little braver and telling myself nothing worse than this could happen now, I reached down and fumbled in the black water for his bony hand.

I felt the bone smooth and cold under my touch and I lifted it and lay the tiny fingers on my palm. I closed my eyes again and hoped Edward understood my actions, I needed to be soothed, maybe he did too, and this was the best I could do for him.

But Edward had a tale to tell and I was his recipient.

The dark, damp walls of the well vanished and we were surrounded by trees again. I heard laughter and turned to see two young boys running through the forest. One was taller, with broad shoulders and dark brown hair and dimples. The younger boy was slightly smaller in frame and height, his hair was reddish brown, and his smile was just as cute as his older brother's.

I watched as they played, taunting each other, laughing and enjoying the day. It made me smile with them.

Then the older boy hid and the younger boy struggled to find him. He searched but the older boy could see from his hiding place and whenever the youngest drew near, he moved to another location.

Eventually, the younger boy sat on the fallen log and waited but his brother still didn't give up and come out of hiding.

Standing, he screamed, making me jump back at the sudden, piercing sound and then he took off, running towards home.

I went with him, my body moving without my will.

I watched him stop in the garden and study his mother in the kitchen of the cottage for a moment, then turning, he giggled and ran out of the garden and into the meadow, but his feet were swift and the grass was long and just like me, he tripped and fell into the darkness.

And then I was back in the well with him and I could see him lying broken and unconscious in the water. I could hear people calling his name but he didn't stir, not for hours.

I could hear Emmett and his father as they argued above us, and he sounded so mad. Edward stirred and looked up to the sky, hearing his father curse him and then threatened to kill him when he eventually got his hands on him. Edward groaned and pulled himself up, crying out but stifling his mouth with his hands. He didn't want his father to hear.

I realised that Edward had taken his father's threats literally. He was only a child and didn't recognise the worried words of a man struggling to come to terms with the fact that he may never see his son again.

Edward was scared, and holding his leg, which I presumed was broken; he scurried back into the shadows, hiding from the men who peered over the edge, just in case he was down there.

"You should've stayed in the light," I whispered and suddenly I recalled Alice's words to me that day at Strawberry Fair.

_Stay in the light, the light will save you._

I looked down at the skeletal body of Edward, the moon shimmered off the surface and his bones glowed pale beneath the dark water.

They hadn't seen him because he had hid in the shadows.

I cried for him, I cried for Emmett and their father and for myself. I wanted to go home and I wanted to be free of this place. I wanted my life and my freedom back and I recalled Edward's words whenever I'd seen him.

All he had wanted was his life, and as I looked at him sitting on the floor of the well, watching his bones under the water, I knew his spirit didn't really want to admit that his body was gone.

He had played a game with his older brother and this had been his fate. Edward screaming and running home had been his attempt to get his own back on Emmett and neither of them deserved this.

"Bella!" Emmett's voice broke the silence of the night and I looked up at the sky, hoping to see his face peering down at me. "Bella!"

"Emmett!" I screamed, holding my hands up as if in prayer. "Emmett, I'm here, I'm down here."

I could hear him stumble through the garden. "Where are you?"

"I'm here, I'm down here."

"I can't see you."

"Emmett!" I sobbed. Then considered what would happen if he stumbled out of the garden and fell into the well along side Edward and I. "Emmett, stop walking, stop. There's a well, and I fell in."

"I can't see anything,"

"I'm so cold," I cried, relief at being so close to safety made me weak and even more emotional.

"Bella, I can't see anything, do you have something you can throw? If I see where it came from then maybe I can find you."

I patted my pockets and groaned when they came up empty, then remembering the necklace around my neck I pulled it free from my shirt and up over my head. Thankfully the chain was long enough for me to take it off without undoing the clasp otherwise I wouldn't have been able to undo it with my broken wrist.

"I have a necklace, it has a pretty big jewel so you should be able to see it, ok?"

"Throw it," he called back.

With all my might, I swung my arm as hard as I could in the confined space and threw the necklace up and over the wall of the well. To my relief, I heard it hit stone and Emmett exclaim he had seen it.

Moments later, I heard his feet shuffle against the stones and his face appeared like an angel in the night, high above me.

"Emmett," I sobbed.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

"No, I think I broke my wrist. Should I try to climb out?"

Emmett shook his head, "No it's too damp, the walls will be covered in slime, you could slip and hurt yourself again. I'll climb down."

"No wait, what if we both get stuck in here?"

"Damn it!" He pounded the wall with his fist. "I need a rope."

"The basement, in the basement," I stuttered and watched as Emmett disappeared. "Please hurry," I cried and tried to control my shivering.

Emmett returned and threw the rope down to me. "You won't be able to climb up with your wrist, Bella, so just tie it round your waist best you can, and hold on tight. I'll pull you up, ok?"

I nodded.

"Ok?" he called out to me again.

"I nodded," I mumbled to him, and felt weak from the cold and the pain in my arm.

I gripped the rope and tried to secure it around my waist, it was impossible to tie, so I settled for wrapping the end around my good arm, and holding on tight.

"Ready?" he called down.

I nodded again.

"Bella, are you ready?"

"Yes," I called back, my voice sounding faint even to me. I needed to get out of here, and into a hot bath. The cold was seeping into my very core and I was freezing.

I felt a faint tingle on my hand and turned to see Edward, silently begging me not to leave him here all alone.

"We'll come back for you, Edward, I promise," I told him. "We'll come back for you."

Emmett tugged and I felt myself being lifted, the circle of light that had seemed so far out of reach shifted closer with each pull on the rope. As I broke the surface, Emmett's arm snaked out and grabbed me, pulling me against him. I clung to the rope as if my life depended on it.

"I've got you," he murmured as he wrestled my arm free, "it's ok, I've got you." I felt him lift me and hook his arms under my legs, and carry me away from the well. Emmett walked into the cottage and placed me on the sofa. He covered me with a blanket that had rested on the back of the chair and then quickly built a fire.

I wanted to question him on the chimney being blocked after years of being unused but felt drained and sleepy. Eventually warmth penetrated the chill in the room and I felt his body lift and move me so I was cradled in his lap. He held me close to his chest and rubbed my arm gently as if to warm my frozen bones.

"I found him," I whispered.

"In the well?" he asked, his voice hitched and he cleared his throat.

I nodded.

"I've called for help, my father will be here soon and we'll get your arm looked at. Then we'll arrange for Edward to brought up too."

I smiled softly and closed my eyes, snuggling closer to the heat from Emmett's body. "He'd like that," I murmured and then I let sleep take me and for once, my dreams were empty.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Emmett's father had arrived with backup. They spent the night illuminating the well with fog lights and then a pump to drain the small level of water. For the first time in years, the Masen cottage came alive with activity again, and then his father went down into the tomb that had held onto his youngest son.

The bones were brittle and couldn't be moved without separation, but despite the macabre task at hand, he gently lifted each and every one and placed them on a tarp, ready to be lifted up and out of the well. He let no one assist him, it was the last thing he could do to help his child.

As the tarp was raised, I watched from the patio door. Edward Masen had finally found the freedom he had been begging for, but he would never have his life back and for that I was heartbroken.

In the distance of the garden, Edward stood and watched his family salvage his body. As the dawn light appeared over the horizon, the image of a ghostly man changed into the spirit of the boy he had been when he'd died.

A ray of sunlight glowed brightly and seemed to be inviting and I watched as Edward smiled, raised his hand to me, and then turned and entered the light. In a second he was gone and I prayed that for all of eternity, Edward never felt cold, trapped or alone again.

Emmett stood beside me and cradled me tight against his side. I felt comfort in his touch and hoped he felt some from mine.


	10. Chapter 10

Epilogue

"Why do you think he aged?" Dr. Cullen clicked his pen and looked down at his notepad. It had been a long time since I'd been back here but I had so much I wanted to talk about and he knew me. I was both surprised and grateful when he'd accepted my call and arranged an appointment.

"I think because Emmett and their mother never let him die, not in here, anyway," I touched my chest above my heart. "Does that make sense?"

"I think it does. They didn't want to imagine he was dead, despite the evidence that he could be and so he lived on in their hearts. They let him age, alongside them."

"You always understand me, Dr. Cullen."

He smiled and jotted something in his pad. "Why did he say 'your soul' was all that he needed to help him?"

I pondered on this and finally shook my head in defeat. "I don't know."

"Can I offer a theory?"

"Please."

"He was lonely, he led you to that cottage and to the well, he showed you his fate and because of your compassion, your kindness, you followed him and eventually found him. How many other people would've ignored what they saw, Isabella?"

"I don't know, how many other people see ghosts, Dr. Cullen?" I smiled and he smiled too.

"You have a good soul, Isabella, and it rescued him."

"I wish it could've saved him."

"You did in other ways."

"I guess," I looked out the window, not wanting to be melancholy. "I'm sorry about the last time I was here," I said quietly.

Dr. Cullen paused, then clicked his pen and placed it on his desk, alongside the notepad. "Why does she stay?" he asked me, his voice just as soft as mine.

I shrugged, "Maybe she needs to hear something from you."

"Like how much I love her?" he asked. "But she knows that."

I looked behind him to see his wife, standing at his shoulder, compassion and sadness evident on her face. I shook my head. "No, maybe she needs to hear that you'll be ok, that she can stop worrying about you now."

She nodded and I dared to glimpse over at him, waiting for the anger again, but Dr. Cullen wasn't mad, he was crying.

I stood and walked to the door but before I could leave he called to me. "Isabella," I turned to face him, hoping I had helped, in some small way at least. "Don't be afraid of who you are, for who you are is beautiful, inside and out."

"But what if it scares other people?"

"You are who you are and if they love you, then they will always love you, no matter what."

"Even if I'm like – the ghost whisperer?" I laughed at my self-given name, unable to think of anything else.

"You're not a ghost whisperer, Isabella, you're better than that. You're a soul collector."


End file.
